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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982409">For we rise and we fall, and we crash on the coastlines (Only our love will last 'til the end)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecrazyfangirl/pseuds/Onecrazyfangirl'>Onecrazyfangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Campaign (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Fishing, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lighthouses, Magic, Multi, Other, Selkie AU, ace!travis, but like different magical realism yknow, demi!gable, nico makes up folklore for fun and profit asmr, now featuring qpr trable!, the polycule dynamics are a complicated web but we'll get there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:01:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecrazyfangirl/pseuds/Onecrazyfangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the journey of a selkie, a cursed fisher, a lighthousekeeper, her apprentice and a very confused mortal as their lives intertwine and the magic around them grows.</p><p>or a selkie au with general folklore themes!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gable/Hildred Gastaur, Gable/Margaret/Travis Matagot, Gable/Travis Matagot, Hildred Gastaur &amp; Travis Matagot, Jonnit &amp; Everyone, Jonnit Kessler &amp; Margaret, Margaret/Hildred Gastaur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone! I made a silly seal Travis joke and it spiralled out of hand into a longfic I did not intend to write. There is a surprising amount of fishing/boats, lighthouses, seals and magic for someone who knows very little of all those things, so like bear with me. also there is mention of travis and gables terrible dad's+ travis mom dying so heads up! title from "Ain't It Enough" by Old Crow Medicine Show which is frankly the vibe for this fic.</p><p>thank u to rowan (DrowningInStarlight) for editing and cheering me on!! lov u &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, Uriel doesn’t even remember what happened. All they have are pieces of their memories, flashes of knowledge. They remember being afraid of the sea, ever since they were young. They grew up in a big coastal city, where the sea was as much your enemy as your only source of income. They remember their father, a deeply unpleasant man. They remember anger. They remember a fire, and a boat sinking, and they don’t think they’ll ever be sure what actually caused it, but that doesn’t matter. There was no doubt in their father’s mind that it was caused by them. </p><p>They remember, before that, being in school and being taught not to curse people, not even as a joke, and certainly not on the sea. Magic is finicky business. It doesn’t take much for things to get out of hand.</p><p>So here’s the thing. They remember their father spitting his last words at them, but they can never remember the exact phrasing. Must have been something like “may you dwell upon the sea forever,” or “may you never stray far from the sea.” It must have been, because they remember thinking <em> Odd words for a dying man </em>. </p><p><em> There is power in the last words of a dying man, </em> they did not think.</p><p>After that, they couldn’t drown. They remember not being able to drown. They don’t remember the months after, the ones they must have spent on some shore somewhere, slowly realising something in their father’s wording must have made it so they couldn’t die. So they couldn’t ever leave.</p><p>They stared out to the vast expanse of the ocean, now both their prison and only companion.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>William’s father hated magic. He was a wealthy man whose money made money, and he’d never seen any point in such frilly business as magic.</p><p>William’s mother, however, had loved magic. Not only that, she’d respected it, and believed that it was important to teach it, as much as any of the other fundamental truths about the universe. There were even whispers that her own mother had come from the sea itself. </p><p>Like anything his father hated and his mother loved, William adored magic. He’d stand and stare with great intent whenever his mother had shown him even the most basic of protection charms. But then she’d fallen ill, and then suddenly she was gone. Really gone, gone as in there was no trace of her left in the house, not even her body. It hadn’t taken long for Father to get rid of all her possessions too.</p><p>“She’s gone back to the sea,” William would tell people. They’d look at him uncomfortably, clearly thinking this was just a child struggling to process grief, but he always knew better. The only thing he always wondered is why she hadn’t taken him with her.</p><p>Years later, his father was on a trip and William was alone. He had grown up attempting to forget about his mother, about everything, but he couldn’t. He’d grown up to enjoy being left alone in his vast house where he never felt at home, spending the downtime between his father’s presence nursing his wounds.</p><p>He stared out of the window of the penthouse, dreading his father’s return, hoping with every inch of him that his father’s ship wouldn’t make it to port.</p><p>Eventually, he couldn’t stand there any longer, so he turned inwards. There wasn’t much left of his mother’s teachings in the house, his own memories turned fuzzy with time, but he had managed to snatch a single grimoire from the library. Bargains were easy, he imagined, and especially so for him. He too, in some way, belonged to the sea.</p><p>So in the middle of a dark, cold night, while the full moon hung heavy in the sky, he went to plead to the waters.</p><p>“I am not, I must admit, entirely sure what this whole deal is,” he said, the moonlight shining off the sand around him, “But you took my mother from me.”</p><p>He looked at the lapping edges of the water. The sea remained just the sea. The waves came and went.</p><p>“I get that you won’t just drown my father for me, and I don’t particularly have much to offer but-” he shuddered a bit, knowing what he was about to do was cruel and very dangerous, “You can take me, William.”</p><p>As he spoke his name, the wind picked up suddenly. It smelt of salt and distant rainfall. </p><p>“You can take me like you took my mother,” he continued, “And in exchange, I want you to make sure his ship doesn’t get here.”</p><p>The sea seemed to agitate, the waves picking up, dark even in the moonlight. </p><p>“Did you hear me?” he yelled, raising his voice over the rushing wind, “You just need to drown-”</p><p>As he spoke his father’s true name, the world went black.</p><p>He hadn’t expected to wake up, after that. It seemed fair enough, a life for a life. Maybe he would get to be a cool water spirit, scaring tourists. Or maybe a fish, with no memories at all. He did not expect to wake up and find himself a seal. </p><p>He knew about selkies, sure, but waking up and being a seal was still a shock. He stared at this new body, his new completely different body, attempting to rationalize what he knew was true - that it was him. </p><p>The other thing he did not expect was to wake up looking onto the ocean, and seeing a storm raging. There was a ship, tossing up and down with the waves, a very familiar ship. It was so close to port, but he knew that it couldn’t make it. It was sinking. His father’s ship was sinking.</p><p>He knew it was the sea showing him their deal was signed. He hadn’t known, not truly, the enormity of his choice until he stared at it, burning in front of him. He didn’t know how to feel as he stared into the sinking ship. </p><p>How many people had he just killed? What was he supposed to <em> do? </em></p><p>He stayed there for a long time, looking on until the ship fully disappeared under the waves. Eventually, when there was nothing but dark wreckage on the surface, he dove down into the water. Time to learn how to be a seal. </p><p>At least now he didn’t have to be human anymore. At least then he could swim far away, see where the ocean currents take him.</p><p>It’s not like there was anyone at home missing him anyway.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Eventually, Uriel got their hands on two things: a small living, and a fishing boat. The boat was just a little too small for them, but it was cozy. She was old enough that her boards creaked in the wind, ropes faded and fraying, and the paint was so worn that her original name was entirely illegible.</p><p>Uriel couldn’t die, and they couldn’t leave the waters for too long,or they got antsy. They’d never gone away for long enough to test the ocean's patience, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the consequences. So living on the water was their only option, and as they still enjoyed food and food cost money, fishing it was.</p><p>It was a lonely existence, but they discover you can get used to even the loneliest things. They had eternity in front of them to learn how to do their job, and do it well. </p><p>They settled in a small town by the name of Safe Harbour. Uriel knew painfully little of magic to understand the how or why, but the town was protected somehow and the magic was strong. Everyone was perfectly content to buy Uriel’s fish, and never talk to them unless they spoke first.</p><p>Routine took over and life was almost pleasant. Uriel wasn’t exactly happy, but they imagined this is as happy as people like them got to be, so they pressed on. There was always more fish to be caught. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>William met Uriel the only good way of meeting people, which is while robbing them. By now, he was perfectly capable of hunting for his own food, but it was such a <em> chore, </em> and a boring one at that. Other seals could tell he was different, that the sea owned him in a different way, and anway, he couldn’t actually talk to them. He didn’t have to be a seal, all the time. But it wasn’t like he could really talk to the humans either, and the vulnerability of being human once again always set him on edge. So he stayed a seal, and passed back and forth through towns, being a general nuisance. </p><p>The only consistent thing about his life these days was stealing, and that was practically second nature. So he didn’t think anything of it when he swam up to a small fishing vessel to get his lunch for the day.</p><p>He managed to climb up on the deck, and was about to flop back into the sea, triumphant with a fish in his mouth, when he heard a loud voice.</p><p>“Hey!” they shouted. </p><p>He froze, turning to look at the irate fisher. He wasn’t the type to be afraid, not anymore, but this person was incredibly tall with long, flowing hair that was almost stark white tied haphazardly back. They had the look of someone who had been on sea for years, but they also didn’t look older than maybe their late twenties. They were also holding a harpoon, pointed menacingly at him. </p><p>He wasn’t the type to be afraid, but he was, perhaps, a little nervous. </p><p>“I swear those damn seals get smarter every time,” they muttered.</p><p>He dropped the fish out of his mouth and sighed. “I have always been this smart, I'll have you know.”</p><p>This made them pause, looking at him baffled for a second before they let out a cry and charged at him with the harpoon.</p><p>“Whoa, okay no need to be rude,” he said, attempting to quickly move out of the way. But he was, in fact, a seal, and seals aren’t made for quick motions on land, to his dismay. </p><p>Desperate times call for desperate measures. He transformed into a man.</p><p>The stranger stopped again, the harpoon dangerously close to his body.</p><p>“Who are you? And what are you doing on my boat?” they say. </p><p>Travis couldn’t help but grin as he held up his hand, with his fish clutched in it. “I feel like it’s rather obvious.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Uriel didn’t know how to feel. There was a man on their boat. That’s an undeniable fact. First there had been a seal, and now there was a very annoying silver haired stranger, wearing a ridiculous coat and actively stealing their fish with his bare hands. </p><p>They could deal with seals. They could deal with other sea creatures. They weren’t in any way prepared to deal with this.</p><p>“Asking for names, just like that?” he said, “How rude of you.”</p><p>They could feel more annoyance bubbling up inside them. “I wasn't asking for your <em> name!” </em></p><p>The stranger smirked at them again, clearly enjoying getting them riled up. They should have harpooned him to death then and there. They’ll never know why they didn’t.</p><p>“Well, you may call me Travis Matagot anyway,” he said magnanimously, dropping the fish and extending a hand.</p><p>They stared at it incredulously, before deciding that their life was already so weird, this might as well happen. They shook it.</p><p>“You can call me, uh…” they said. It had been so long since they had to give out names like this. “Gable,” they settled on eventually. </p><p>“Like the roof thing,” he said, deadpan.</p><p>Gable felt their cheeks heating up. “Shut up!” they said, still holding a lowered harpoon in their other hand, “You were stealing from me, what makes you think-”</p><p>“I was hungry,” he said, shrugging. He seemed harmless, if very annoying, so they cautiously put the harpoon down. </p><p>“Can’t you fish? You are a seal part of the time, apparently.” </p><p>Travis visibly relaxed a little once they’re no longer armed. “Now, why would I, when I can have others do it for me?”</p><p>“You could have just asked me,” they said.</p><p>Now it was Travis’ turn to be taken aback. He stared at them. “What?” he said.</p><p>“I have a lot of fish soup,” Gable said, knowing what they were saying is surreal but being certain that by now they were far too late to stop this trainwreck of a conversation.</p><p>“Like in general?” he seemed almost amused.</p><p>“I always make too much,” they admit. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>That's how Travis ended up in their painfully crowded combined kitchen and living room, his coat draped over the back of the chair he was sitting on, staring at a hot bowl of fish soup.</p><p>He almost wondered if he ought to accept food at all, but although he didn’t know what to make of Gable yet, they certainly didn’t seem the type to trap him eternally by feeding him.</p><p>Gable stared at him, almost self consciously. He almost wanted to pretend he didn’t like it, just to see how they’d react, but regrettably he was hungrier than he thought, and the soup was surprisingly good.</p><p>“You liked it,” they said, grinning.</p><p>“It was fine,” he said, stopping himself just short of asking for seconds.</p><p>“I have spent a lot of time perfecting that soup, Travis.”</p><p>He laughed. Time had been something of a laughable concept for a while now. “Well, can’t have been that long. How old are you, twenty five?”</p><p>That made his companion pause. They looked down and, honest to god, started counting on their fingers. “Probably forty by now,” they said, looking at him sheepishly. “No clue what that is in seal-man years, or whatever.”</p><p>He stared at them, somewhat intrigued at last. But not enough to pry, certainly. “First of all, you must have heard of selkies before,” he said. They gave him a blank stare that meant they honestly probably hadn’t. “And I don’t know either, we don’t age, exactly.”</p><p>Gable shrugged. “Sure, did you want more soup?”</p><p>“Well if you insist,” he said, passing his bowl to them.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They fell into this new routine together easily. Travis would come and try and steal things or otherwise be an annoyance. Gable would threaten him with increasingly odd weapons or just bodily throw him off the side. </p><p>And sometimes Travis stayed, and ate Gable’s repertoire of fish based dishes, or mucked about in the small space of the boat. They both occasionally went to town, although mostly separately, as Gable had the reputation of a gentle constant and Travis was rather more of a trickster cryptid.</p><p>They never talked about the pasts that plagued them or the curses on their heads, and they were both entirely too stubborn to admit this is the happiest they had been in a very, very long time.</p><p>There wasn’t a single moment that they realised they had become friends, and certainly not one they acknowledged. There was only a night, and a tipsy Travis falling asleep on the couch, his silver gray coat left behind, still slung over the chair he usually ate at. There was only a morning Gable spent staring at it wistfully, telling themselves they shouldn’t read into it.</p><p>There was him waking up, not for a second doubting his coat would still be there, safe and untouched.</p><p>And so in the fragile silence of their friendship, time pressed on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Travis and Gable meet Margaret.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes this is 6k long, yes I upped the chapter number, this fic has consumed me body and soul.</p>
<p>again a very warm shout out to everyone in the uwuru and most importantly my editor Rowan &lt;333</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Gable, open up,” Travis called, pounding on the hatch on their docked ship. “I brought wine!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment, Gable blearily opened the hatch to glare at him. “Travis, it’s two in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved past them into the living area, not giving them a second glance. “Oh is it?” he said, “I hadn’t noticed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, so they just grumpily closed the hatch and followed him. He’d made himself comfortable already, his coat and shoes dumped across the couch, rummaging around the too tall cupboards for wine glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable sighed, but sat down at the table and accepted the wine being passed to them. “I thought you were going to stay in town for a while?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A crack appeared in his careless demeanor as he shrugged. Gable had learnt this generally meant he was having a bad day, and needed no further questioning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any news from the mainland?” they asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze brightened and he propped his legs on the table. “Oh yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable half heartedly glared at his feet on the nice wood of their table, then decided they were not going to win that particular fight and took a sip from their wine instead. They gestured for him to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he began, “Rumour has it there’s a new lighthouse keeper coming to town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable gave him an incredibly blank stare. “So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gable,” he said, incredulous, “You can’t tell me you haven’t at least picked up a little of the importance of the lighthouse keeper?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lighthouse has been there on that peak seemingly forever. It’s been a fixed point for as long as Travis and Gable have been around, so at the very least a couple of generations. Gable was grateful to it, but that was the extent of their knowledge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am surprised you’ve picked up on anything ever,” they said, taking another sip of their wine with annoyance. “You’re not exactly known for your observation skills.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you know, everyone being deadly worried about the custodian of literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>balance</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic </span>
  </em>
  <span>becoming unfit at their job for at least the past decade and a half is a little hard to miss! They just won’t stop complaining about it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just sell them fish, Travis. How am I supposed to know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “I figured you talked to someone,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Y'know, at least once in this past decade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I don’t!” they said, downing the rest of their wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just stared at them, gaze full of amusement. “Well, now you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, can I go back to bed now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable almost didn’t notice the way he winced ever so slightly, but they did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “You are welcome to stay,” they said carefully, not making eye contact, “Some of us just happen to have jobs to do in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can go if I’m bothering you </span>
  <em>
    <span>that much.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a second. Gable was too tired for their usual dancing around the subject by being mean to each other. It always ended the same way anyway, Travis staying, the two of them pressed together in Gable's bed and then never acknowledging it in the morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travis, it’s late, please stop whining and just come to bed,” they said plainly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis didn’t say anything, but for a second they caught each other’s eyes and neither of them could bear the vulnerability they found there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t say anything as they climbed into bed, but Gable, with sleepiness as their cover story, allowed themself the indulgence of cradling him to their chest. He sighed happily. It didn’t take long for either of them to easily drift off into sleep, comforted by each other’s warmth and the distant sounds of churning waves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them could have predicted who would soon enter their life, changing it forever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret had been in town for a few weeks now. It was a nice job, all things considered. The town needed someone with magical expertise who was willing to learn how to take care of a lighthouse in a short time, and she had always liked a challenge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Safe Harbour was beautiful, small and homey, with small paths and hills. Magic was strong and therefore nature spread freely. It simultaneously looked like time had stopped several decades ago, and yet there was surprisingly good phone signal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d spent a considerable amount of time getting to know the town and its citizens. The connection with the community was a part of the job her teacher had severely neglected. It was an odd position to be in, she had to admit. This apprenticeship was usually one given to a young teen from the town itself who then took over the job when the last lighthouse keeper couldn’t anymore. Her predecessor had let the responsibility go to his head and had become something of a recluse. So here she was, attempting to learn the job and pick up the slack before he passed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This afternoon she had managed to finish early. She was enjoying herself in the biggest pub in town when her attention was taken by a particularly loud man at the bar. She hadn’t seen him anywhere before, which was odd as he seemed hard to miss with his big, exaggerated mannerisms and ostentatious silver coat that seemed to almost gleam in the dim light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I have seen him around before,” she said vaguely to the people sitting next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I wouldn’t mix with him,” a younger woman sneered, “He just comes into town every once in a while to cause trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is exactly what you should not say to Margaret if you wanted her to stay away from someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She easily made her way across the pub to him, sitting down next to him. Closer, she realised something else that would make him hard to miss, he was just absolutely drenched in magic. Intriguing. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to her, smiling. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could say the same thing about you,” she answered, “And I have been working quite hard to get to know everyone, so I believe I have the upper hand here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a drink from the glass in his hand, and stared at her. Then he smiled again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be the new lighthouse keeper,” he said, extending his hand to shake. “Travis Matagot, it’s a pleasure for you to make my acquaintance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn't help but roll her eyes, which only made his smirk widen. But she shook his hand anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Margaret,” she said, then smoothly added “Likewise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She enjoyed the small shock like electricity that went between them and Travis’ easy smirk falling for a second. He regained his composure quickly, but she smiled knowingly anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” he said, trying to sound casual, “It’s dangerous to just throw your name around like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your worry is touching, Mr. Matagot, but it’s part of my job. A sign of trust, if you will,” she said. “Besides, I am not afraid of any people in this town. I assure you I am perfectly capable of defending myself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They locked eyes and grinned at each other. He tipped his drink to her. There was a certain mystery to him, and he was fun to fluster. She couldn't quite help herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to buy me a drink?” she said, raising a playful eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She enjoyed the easily missed glimpses of him being out of his element, a quiet confusion in his eyes at someone rising to his challenges and meeting him with ease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, of course,” he said leaning back in his chair, signaling to the bartender, “For the... what is it? Protector of magic? Keeper of balance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All of the above and more besides, Mr. Matagot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a while since Travis had talked to someone and enjoyed it this much. There was Gable, of course, but that was different. Margaret was just... easy to talk to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was clearly very curious, trying to subtly steer the conversation to magic, to what he was. He was enjoying dodging her questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you live in town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In a way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him a tad exasperated. “Do you ever give a straight answer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me Margaret, there is nothing straight about me,” he said, winking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That got a begrudging laugh out of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could show you where I live, and my whole… deal. If you want,” he said haltingly, and he knew she could tell this is not a thing he offered often.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hopped off her bar stool, offering her arm, her eyes bright with interest. “Show me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked along the coast path to the jagged, rocky side of the beach. There was a small seal colony that lived out here, where Travis spent his time when he wasn’t in Gable’s boat. He didn’t live here exactly, but it was close enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they walked, he looked around for Gable's little boat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems they aren’t here today,” he remarked distractedly, “That's a shame, I think you would’ve liked them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?” Margaret asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. Travis wasn’t used to people not knowing he travelled in a pair. “Gable. They’re a fisher and also my-” he cut himself off, not really knowing how to describe them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smirked at him coyly. “Your...?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An idiot I regrettably hang out with a lot,” he amended, but he knew his cheeks were burning. Human forms were so annoying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, Travis,” she said, still looking amused. “I imagine I would’ve met them by now, if they’re ever in town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought for a second. “Well, they are hard to miss,” he said,  “Seven feet tall? Ridiculously blond hair that's almost white? Huge idiot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you mean the fisher that keeps very awkwardly dodging conversation with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis couldn’t help a slight genuine, fond look on his face. “That sounds like them, yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked along until Travis could see the cliff’s side and stopped. Margaret looked around confused. He smiled, excited to have her be the one taken aback for once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is an empty beach?” she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s not empty,” he said, gesturing at the seals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A slither of understanding dawned on her face. He took an unnecessary running leap, transforming and flopping down as a seal, and turned to her doing the closest thing to a grin that seal could pull off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a selkie,” she said, delighted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I always think the coat is a dead giveaway, and yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure are an interesting person, Matagot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So they say,” he said, flopping onto his back to bask in the warm summer sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit on the warm rocks of the beach for a while, Margaret enjoying spending some time away from the size of her responsibilities, and Travis revelling in the joys of not being human, splashing into the ocean. And if he’s exaggerating some of his abilities for Margaret, then there’s no one to call him out on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, the afternoon sun begins to cool off, and Margaret has to go home. He transforms back, slipping out of his seal skin to say goodbye to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their goodbye is unhurried and light, and it’s only when he lays his head to sleep he realises how much he wants to see her again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does see her again. Gable was apparently on one of their longer trips, still not showing up on the coastline where he knows to look for them, and he’s bored without anyone to bother. At least, that’s the excuse he tells himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He met her in a bar and managed to pry her away from her responsibilities for an evening. He smiled. “I brought you a gift,” he said, and he produces a watch out of his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at and snatched it from his hands. “That’s mine,” she looked at him disbelieving, “You stole it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirked. “Well, I am giving it back, aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed. “I forgive you, but,” she said, smiling at him challengingly, “Only if you tell me how you did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, she finds him at the beach, then he finds her at the market, so on for a handful of weeks. It’s easy with her. There’s a familiarity when the two of them are together. Travis has never felt so light, nothing has ever come quite so easily to him as his friendship with Margaret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s a sunset, they are laughing, leaning against each other while sitting on the beach. The energy is a little different, almost charged. It's soft, sweet and exciting; Travis can’t help but lean into her more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should come around for dinner sometime,” she said, smiling at him with a glint in her eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed surprised for a second. He stared at her silently, and for a second Margaret wondered if she overstepped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then he smiled back, the rare kind, true and genuine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” he said quietly, like he doesn’t want the waves to overhear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Travis doesn’t want to talk to Gable about it. About Margaret. He tries not to, hiding in the rocky cliffs, thinking that he can casually bring it up after he’s had dinner with her and it won’t be a big deal. But he can’t stop himself from wanting to see Gable still, even if the feelings are incredibly annoying and he wishes he didn’t have them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he sees their boat docked, he can’t really stop himself from walking down. He tries not to examine his own reasons too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable was in a good mood, whistling absentmindedly as they went about cleaning their boat. They even smiled when they saw him. “Did you bring something to drink?” they asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Am I just some bartender to you?” he says, but he is, in fact, holding a bottle of booze he stole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ignore him and grab the bottle from him easily. “Well, I do make dinner for us a lot. It seems like an easy enough compromise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes, moving to the small ladder to go into the living quarters. “Shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable smiles at him. “Be my guest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something was up with Travis. It wasn’t a mood Gable had seen from him before. They were used to him being snappy, or apathetic, but this wasn’t either of those. He was just… a little spacey. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If they didn’t know better, they might have said he seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Certainly, whatever it was it was starting to get on their nerves, wondering what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into this time. As the evening progressed, they slowly realised they were going to have to go through the actual nightmare of talking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Travis started absentmindedly, but rather loudly, tapping out a rhythm with his fork they snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t you stop that,” they snapped, “What's up with you today?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up a tad bewildered. “Nothing? What’s up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t like Gable had expected him to just talk about it, but they had had a good week and really did not enjoy the potential of it being ruined.  “You’ve been all…” they sighed, “I don’t know. Weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly blinked at them. “Weird?” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! I don’t know; distracted, fidgety, whatever,” they said frustratedly, “You know if you got into trouble you can just tell me. It can’t be worse than the time you “accidentally” burned that house down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave them a blank stare. Gable didn’t notice the creeping blush on his neck and continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Travis, please tell me you didn’t burn a house down again, that was such a nightmare to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gable, stop,” he said, gesturing at them. “I didn’t burn a house down. I am not in trouble. Everything is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They squinted at him. “I don’t believe you,” they said, “But fine. You don’t have to tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and mumbled something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Gable said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said,” he repeats exaggeratedly, “I met the new lighthouse keeper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable looked at him confused for a few seconds, before the penny dropped. “Right, the,” they said, snapping their fingers to remember, “Keeper of magic! Taking over from the one not doing their job, something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis nodded, averting his gaze, and taking a pointed bite out of his food. “Yep, that’s the one.” he said, then quickly took another bite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's good news, I suppose,” they said, also now remembering to eat, “But I don’t understand why you’re getting all worked up about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were a few beats of silence where they both ate before Gable caught Travis’ flustered gaze as he was shoveling food into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” they said, a smile quickly spreading on their face, “Wait, Travis did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like them?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” he said, his face now bright red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sounded delighted now. “Travis Matagot caring about someone? Someone you have just recently met even?” they said, then quickly, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? They didn’t curse you or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, she didn’t curse me,” he said, abandoning the pretense of eating diligently. “We just hung out. It’s nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re blushing,” Gable said, disbelieving and gleeful. “You’re actually blushing, you have to tell me about it, Travis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he said, standing up haughtily, “I can just leave, you know, I’m not bound to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But his words lacked bite, and for a second Gable felt entirely the silly teenager they were never allowed to be. “Come on, Travis,” they whined, “I won’t even make fun of you! I’m just curious. Who on earth could steal </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>heart so quickly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t make fun of me?” he said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable thought about it. “Maybe a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, dramatically sitting back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” he said. But he couldn’t contain his smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The afternoon flew by, and by the end of it Gable was still not entirely convinced. Travis managing to endear himself to someone seemed unlike him. Travis showing someone his seal form to someone also seemed unlike him. His excited, flustered demeanor was definitely unlike him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he had a certain softness to his voice. Perhaps he was tweaking the story a little, but he wasn’t lying. It was nice to have something so completely normal to talk about as someone you were excited to meet, and are excited to see again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the night came in, the conversation turned less playful, as they often do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you jealous?” Travis asked, breaking the silence they had been sitting here for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were sitting on the couch. In the cold Travis often stayed in his seal form, but today his coat was draped over both of their legs as they simply basked in each other's company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable cocked their head. “Should I be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to be?” they said curiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said, “It’s just- nothing. Never mind, it’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They decided to leave it. Then a moment later, they spoke up again. “There is something I’m wondering though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just… trusted her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at them. “Yes? So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you never do that. Don’t play dumb.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed to think about it for a while, shifting to look at them. “She gave me her name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That surprised them. “What? Just like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well she didn’t give it exactly, and it’s apparently part of her job,” he said, “And she was curious and-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable can see him struggling with something that he doesn’t know how to put into words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like I told her my deepest darkest secrets or anything, you know,” he says. “Everyone in town knows, she would’ve figured it out eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both knew that was different from what had happened here, but it was enough of an answer for Gable to just nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t think I know your name,” they said. They tried to make it sound light, but they could feel the way the mood immediately changed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had probably, in the many scrapes they had gotten themselves into together, mentioned their names in passing. This is different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis tucked himself under Gable’s arm, pulling his coat over himself. “It’s William,” he said, and he was trying so hard to make it sound like he didn't care. As if the name wasn’t wrapped up in the kid he used to be, the kid who followed his mother around and listened to her stories with wide eyes. As if the last person who’d ever spoken the word hadn’t been his mom, the night before she left. As if William wasn’t the person he held so tight to his chest in the hope of holding onto the little that was left of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“William,” they breathed. Hearing the name from Gable’s lips felt like his heart was being tugged on. He realised it was good. Their voice was so soft, he felt… loved. It didn’t make him flinch like he feared it would. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Uriel,” they said, blinking away tears, “But it might as well be Gable by now, if I’m honest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sighed. “It’s been so long, I remember so little of it and,” they averted their gaze and their voice was so small. “I don’t think anyone has ever spoken that name with… with kindness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In Uriel was the child who had been forced to grow up too fast. Uriel was inextricably intertwined with the final dying words of the man who had given them that name in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them dared say anything after that. Gable had worked a long and hard week, and they were the first to fall asleep, still holding onto Travis on the cramped couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only when their breathing slowed that Travis dared to gently brush their hair out of their face and whisper a single word. “Uriel.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said it like a promise, like it meant the world, like by the act of saying it he could make it into a word attached to love instead of cruelty. They twitched slightly in their sleep, mumbling something nonsensical. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it wasn’t ideal to fall asleep on the couch, but there was no way he could carry them and for some reason he couldn’t stand the idea of waking them. So he just resigned to his fate and pulled the coat over both of them, laying his head against their chest. He fell asleep to the steady beat of their heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lighthouse stood atop a ragged, cobblestoned hill, shining a light to everyone who needed to find their way home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis arrived at Margaret’s place dressed in new clothes. It had occurred to him during the week that the small stash of assorted clothes he kept at the boat weren’t exactly nice, and they had to be at least a few decades out of date by now. He couldn’t steal from Gable, both because of their size difference and because they seemed to think dressing entirely in billowy shirts and nondescript brown pants was acceptable. So he had stolen a few new ones, ignoring the amused look he got from Gable for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knocked, and she opened the door almost at once. She looked radiant, illuminated by the pale light in the hallway behind her. Her black hair was done up in braids woven with white flowers, complimenting her gray and green dress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at him. “You made it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said, “I made the true and harrowing journey up the hill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes but didn’t stop smiling despite herself, and gestured him in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They swiftly walked past the coat hanger on the first floor of the lighthouse, and Travis followed her upstairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lighthouse was bigger than it had any right to be. Travis had seen it standing there on the cliff for decades, but he’d never once been inside it. The light from every angle seemed to be idyllic, and it was warm, perfect. Travis had been around enough magic to know when a place was made of it, breathing it. Margaret was in control of the room, and it moved for her, with her gaze and smile. He could do little more than stare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She caught his eye. “I can see you like it,” she said and moved to the kitchen, “Make yourself comfortable, we can eat in a bit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat down at one of the chairs of the table, draping his coat on the back of it. The places were already set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we eating?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Old recipe of my mother’s,” she called back, “It’s kind of like beef casserole, you’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I'm glad it's not fish. You know I do love Gable’s cooking, but they won't expand their menu even a little,” he said, leaning in his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret moved to stand in the kitchen doorway, looking amused at him while waiting for the oven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he added, “And don’t tell-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell Gable you said you love their cooking, I know,” she said, “You’ve said as much. You talk about them a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scoffed. “Only because they annoy me deeply.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled. “You don’t have to hide from me,” she said. “When I get to meet them I won’t tell them you care about them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You promise?” Travis said, full of fake innocence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not falling for that one, Matagot,” she said, turning to pull her dish out of the oven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was worth a try,” he said, “Still, nice to eat something that isn’t fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at him for a bit, the soft light hitting her just right as she considered him. “You act so high and mighty, but can you even cook?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a seal most of the time,” he said, acting offended, “I can eat fish raw-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “So you can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that,” he said, beginning to pour them both wine as she walked across to the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remind me why I invited you to dinner again,” she said, sounding fondly exasperated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis smiled. “Because you just like me so much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are incorrigible.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis had been afraid dinner might have been awkward, different. He’d never been any good at this sort of thing, but he fell into step with Margaret easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The evening pressed on, the food was good. Margaret’s teacher was apparently handling the night tasks that day, and so both of them could sit and enjoy each other’s company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat together on her couch, the fire in the fireplace crackling softly in the background. He was lounging, his coat now draped on the back behind him. Margaret was sat across from him, their hands almost meeting in the middle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was laughing about something Travis had already forgotten. Her laugh was distracting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I guess you are in a seal body a lot,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t say I’m in a seal body, exactly,” he said vaguely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him, full of that curiosity again. “How would you describe it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed thoughtfully. This wasn’t something that he thought about often, and he talked about it even less than that. But he finds it doesn’t hurt to contemplate now, everything hazy and soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, when I’m a seal, it’s just my body,” he said. “I’m a selkie when I’m human and I’m a selkie when I’m seal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him in fascination. It’s odd, because people have asked prying questions to Travis before and he hated them. Hated feeling like a butterfly pinned to a glass. But Margaret asks because she wants to know him, understand him, and he realises slowly that maybe that doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe he’d like that, to be seen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed. “I don’t know if it makes sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded. Her fingers brushed his, and he could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest as she spoke. “Magic is difficult like that sometimes. I would know, I’m,” she laughed, “Something of an expert.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” he said, “So how did that happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did I become an expert?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve always had magic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone does.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles. “Not like me,” she says, moving her hair back, exposing her neck. There was a birthmark, almost resembling the form of some kind of flower. Travis marvelled at it, feeling a sudden urge to gently trace the outline of it with his finger. He didn’t, of course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was born with a gift,” she said, “I wasn’t sure what, but my mother used to say it was protection, unity, power.” She shook her head a little. “I used to think it was the type of thing mothers always said, but when she passed, I took to magic and… well. You know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know, but he felt like he understood a little anyway. He took her hand on an impulse, squeezing it gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, my mom also passed,” he said casually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snorted. “Is this your idea of comfort?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, just saying we have a lot in common!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed and leant into the touch a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what did you do?” he said, picking up the conversation threads. “Before this whole thing, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I travelled  a lot,” she said. “I taught a few apprentices for a while, actually. Made friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like it suited you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It did,” she said thoughtfully. “For a while.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in warm silence for a bit after that. Travis looked at Margaret with a sudden curiosity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just… wonder why you settled here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed. “I mean, it’s a job with a lifelong commitment that also makes you responsible for a whole town. Anchored to this place. I certainly wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seemed to think about it for a moment then said, “It's been awhile since I’ve had a place that I can call home.” Then she adds, lighter, “Besides. I’ve always liked a challenge.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled at her. “Cheers to that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret stood on the threshold, bidding Travis farewell. He was lingering, fussing about with things, and it was strangely endearing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could walk you home,” she offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blushed furiously. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” he said, fiddling with his coat. He still hovered, though, just at the other side of the threshold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess this is goodbye then,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “We should do this again sometime,” he said, so earnestly it made Margaret’s chest ache. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, still standing around looking for excuses to stay even though he’d been the one to point out the late hour. He’s so nervous that it’s sweet. She would’ve indulged him further, were it not for the work that she knows will need doing tomorrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she took a step forward, out onto the little path, gently letting her hand fall on Travis’ chest and pulling him gently forward by his coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I?” she asked softly, looking into his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled him down and his lips met hers. The kiss was soft and gentle and just because she could, Margaret added some magic to it. Just a little something for a safe return home, the magic settling heavy and sweet around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled as they stepped apart. “Goodnight, Travis,” she whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Margaret.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should bring her around sometime,” Gable said, not looking up from their work gutting fish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis was lying around the deck as a seal, being absolutely no help, as always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’d like to meet you, yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She should come here. So, you know, I don’t have to be away for a whole afternoon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis rolled his eyes. He didn’t know Gable's whole deal with the sea, but he imagined they were definitely being a little paranoid at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” he said. “I’ll cook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Gable pause. “You?” they said, looking at him, full of amusement. “You want to cook?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis sighed. “What is it about me and everyone assuming I can’t cook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, but cooking takes work, Travis, are you sure you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>handle</span>
  </em>
  <span> that,” they said, swinging the knife in their hand dangerously as they gesture at him, lounging on the deck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here I am trying to be nice, and this is the thanks I get,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shook their head, laughing. “You can cook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said pointedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They resume their work and without looking up say, “Really excited to meet whoever managed to get Travis Matagot, of all people, to make some effort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, I am a seal-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re insufferable, that's what you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Second of all: shut up.” With that he swooped in with unexpected grace, grabbed the fish out of their hands and splashed off the side with it into the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! I’ll get you for that one!” they called. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret gaped at the boat. Her arm was linked with Travis’s as they walked towards it together, and he rambled on about something or other as they crossed easily from solid land onto the little deck. The hatch is open, and Travis seemed to have zero compunctions about walking directly inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The inside of the boat is cozy. It’s small, certainly, and old, but it’s homey, and it had the look of something that had been recently cleaned in a hurry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there was Gable, just as she had occasionally seen awkwardly ducking out of sight in the village. Travis had certainly not been generous enough in his descriptions of them, however. They’re tall and imposing, muscled and with the callused hands of a hard worker. He also hadn’t mentioned the curse that hun heavy over their head, taut around them. She tried to blink away her Sight, and smiled at them instead. That was no topic for a first meeting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held out her hand. “Margaret,” she said, “Travis has told me a lot about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable shakes her hand, and she could feel the magic wrapping around their linked hands. They flushed immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, uh, you can call me Gable,” they managed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis was snickering next to her, and Gable shot him a half hearted glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded. “So he’s said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked painfully awkward, and Margaret couldn’t help but like them already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, let's sit,” they said, and then, more at ease, “Travis has cooked for us tonight, and let’s say I’m intrigued to find out if he’s any good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret sat down easily in the chair offered to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re being mean to me when we have company, Gable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You never have any reservations about being mean to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> they said, taking the seat opposite Margaret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because you’re just so easy to make fun of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? And who’s being mean now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m merely stating a fact,” he said. He turned to Margaret, “Am I not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret shook her head, amused. “Dear, you must know I’m not taking your side on this one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha!” Gable said triumphant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what to make of the pair of them. Travis has been notoriously cagey about what their deal was, and the scene isn’t bringing any clarity. Then Travis leaned over and  unceremoniously dumped his heavy coat over Gable’s head, snickering at them, and Margaret’s breath caught. His coat- a selkie’s coat- isn’t something to part with easily, but they were both acting as if it was nothing unusual for Gable to have Travis’s coat in their hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travis!” they grumbled, voice muffled as they struggled out from underneath the coat. “I swear to all that is holy- You were going to behave-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s like that. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simultaneously, they both freeze as they seem to remember that Margaret is in the room, a witness to this moment of such aching intimacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable coughed awkwardly and threw the coat to the couch in the back of the room. Travis gave them an unconvincing smirk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d better get to it then,” he says, walking to the kitchen to finish cooking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis’ cooking was just fine and apparently it was one of Gables recipes which he was endlessly reminded of at all moments. They eat and talk and a surprising familiarity falls over all of them. Like falling into step in a dance you have known for so long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ends up in the middle of both of them on the couch at the end of the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable was excitedly rambling about their favorite spice, Travis despite himself was smiling at them. They were all acting up their tipsiness a little as they had drank a single bottle between the three of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis’ hand was slung around her shoulder and Gable is gently pressed against her and Margaret feels both so alive and so relaxed. She nuzzles into his chest and very tentatively takes one of Gable’s hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They blush of course, they stammer a little. Their gaze flickers briefly to Travis, who seems perfectly content and one might say even less annoying than usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They resume their speech, not letting go of her hand. Travis’ hand is in her hair, playing with it softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And really no one can blame her when she very slowly falls asleep under both of their warm embraces.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to wake her,” Travis whispered in annoyance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable stared at both of them, Margaret sleeping and Travis glaring. “We can’t all fall asleep on my couch,” they said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” he said, then yawned, sleep catching up to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable can’t move without waking Margaret, and Travis is being wholly uncooperative as usual. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry, she liked you,” he said, his eyes closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They blushed furiously. “Doesn’t mean she wants me to sleep with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis opened his eyes and raised an amused eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not- not like that!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret stirred a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhh,” Travis murmured to her, before addressing Gable again. “Then don’t sleep. It’s not like you need it anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable shakes their head and decides to stand up anyway. Margaret wakes up as they do, and she looks blearily up at them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she says sleepily, “I didn’t mean to-” she gets cut off by her own yawn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” they say, ever so softly. “You’re welcome to stay, I just didn’t want to… you know.” they gesture vaguely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret laughs a little. “I should probably head back,” she says, but she doesn’t stand up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis softly kisses the top of her head. “Stay?” he says in a voice Gable knows he seldom uses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods sleepily and nuzzles back into his chest, clearly too tired for the cold walk home. When she’s fast asleep again, Gable silently passes Travis his coat, who pulls it over himself and Margaret both. Neither of them mention it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She works hard, you know?” he mumbles, “I just want her to get some rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable smiles. “Sleep well then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He makes a very tired grabby hand gesture, and Gable obliges with amusement. He holds their hand and gently presses a kiss to their knuckles. Gable isn’t sure what’s gotten into him, but when he finally drops off to sleep too they spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at the pair of them. Worrying about whether the couch will hurt their backs, or if they’ll be uncomfortable sleeping in their clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They like Margaret. They like her very much. They’re glad to have met her and somehow, they find that they’re already looking forward to seeing her again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret has to wake up painfully early the next morning, and she’s surprised to find that when she wakes Gable is in the kitchen, making breakfast, and Travis is still sitting groggily wrapped in his coat at the table, drinking coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning!” Gable says excitedly, and Travis groans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I could get used to this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A relationship develops and in the meantime the tides turn.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>each chapter gets longer than the last one apparently! I will just not shut up about them! </p>
<p>a few small content warnings for this chapter: mentions of sacrificial blood magic (like in skyjacks and its not graphic), (magical) sensory overload, general trauma stuff and uh minor character death i guess?</p>
<p>Yet again thank you to everyone who has let me ramble on about this story i would not be able to do this without you. Special shout out to my editor Rowan who puts the cherry on top and fixed my terrible spelling mistakes, concider this one a very early birthday present ro!! &lt;333</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There are a few months in every relationship where you have firsts. While the act of repetition will soon give each action weight, firsts carry their own sort of magic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret first kissed Gable on the deck of their little ship. She’d been enjoying flustering them with flirting for a while now, and Travis had been enjoying the perfect opportunities to tease them mercilessly. She knew they’d have to talk about things eventually, but for now it’s summer, and everything is light and warm and playful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun was going down over the horizon, and she was leaning on the railing of the deck, watching Gable tidy the mooring lines. Gable working their craft was always a sight to behold, even if they’d been rambling slightly nonsensically about different types of nooses for a while now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked up for a second, catching her eye. Margaret smiled at them encouragingly, and they immediately blushed, looking away. She decided then and there that she really couldn’t take it anymore. Travis had already pointed out to her, with his characteristic fond scorn, that Gable is about as insightful as a brick wall and couldn’t take a hint if you threw it at them, so this was clearly not going to work. She decided to take the direct approach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gable?” she said, leaning over the railing to call to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss me?” she asked sweetly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable froze, stammering something incomprehensible, but they immediately let the ropes fall from their grip and took a step towards her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never done this before?” she said kindly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They smiled sheepishly. “It has been a while,” they admitted, as they came up to the railing opposite her and hesitantly went to rest a hand on her waist. “I don’t normally- only when I get to know someone, it’s-” they made a vague gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me,” she breathed, tugging on their ridiculously frilly shirt to pull them down. Their eyes were wide and gentle as their lips met softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Margaret’s happy surprise, Gable caught on quickly, their size difference only a slight inconvenience as Gable lifted her up effortlessly to sit on the railing, deepening their kiss. Her hands moved easily to their hair, as theirs remained on her hips, keeping her steady. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That alright?” Gable murmured as they parted. Frankly, Margaret could do little more than nod, cheeks warm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both leaning in for another kiss when they heard the distant sound of a seal clapping from down below on land. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took you long enough,” he called, looking as smug as a seal could be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travis- you-” Gable said, sputtering and glaring, getting impossibly more red and flustered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re late, dear,” is all that Margaret said, as she gestured for Gable to gently lift her off the railing. They obeyed immediately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis smirked at them both. “I don’t have a watch,” he said, and seeing that Gable wasn’t going to move from Margaret’s side to lift him into the boat as a seal, he sighed and transformed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He climbed on deck, where Margaret was still pressed close to Gable's side, their hands clasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What,” he said, pouting exaggeratedly, “No kisses for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes, amused, but obliged, leaning forward to peck him on the lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled, small and fond like he was trying his hardest to smirk and failing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t encourage him,” Gable muttered, but they were smiling too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you stay?” Margaret asked, one night after she and Travis had dinner together up at the lighthouse. She’d stayed over at Gable’s several times, and logically, Travis knows this isn’t all that different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except, of course, it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not that he doesn’t trust Margaret. He does, of course he does, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Margaret, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but… he can’t stop the way his chest tightened with anxiety at the thought of falling asleep somewhere unfamiliar with his coat. It’s just so vulnerable, a kind of vulnerability he’s managed to avoid for years now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, of course, there’s the other issue. The one of what is generally expected of a lover when they stay over. Another thing that he does, really and truly, trust Margaret with, but the idea of actually having to talk about it made him shudder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d vaguely mentioned it to Gable, probably a good few decades ago now, when they’d already fallen into the habit of sleeping curled around each other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gable, have you ever thought about sleeping together?” he’d asked out of genuine curiosity, easy in the drunk, sleepy haze they were both in. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re doing that right now, aren’t we?” they’d grumbled. “At least, if you shut up and let me sleep.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d rolled his eyes. “Not like that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’d shifted on an elbow to try and make eye contact with him. “Travis, do you want to have sex with me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, gross,” he’d said. They’d looked vaguely offended at him, and he’d continued “It isn’t my thing, Gable, but you know. Most people talk about it a lot. I was wondering if it ever crossed your mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gable had shrugged. “Not really. Can I sleep now?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then, everything between Gable and himself lingered in that unspoken, unacknowledged place that made everything so simple and so dangerously easy to hurt each other with all at once. With them, it all just worked out. Mostly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, however, he was actually going to have to talk about it, and set genuine, healthy boundaries. The sheer audacity of life sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated being nervous, and he didn’t know how he felt about the way Margaret picked up on it immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright if you don’t want to,” she said, smiling softly at him from the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and plopped down on the couch next to her. “I do want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed noncommittally, then turned to her and leaned forward, kissing her softly. She giggled against his mouth and took him by the shoulders, moving him back just a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Travis we are talking about this,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled despite himself. “It was worth a try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I completely understand if this is about your coat,” she said, her voice a little more serious. “You wouldn’t upset me if you had a very reasonable anxiety around it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis' gaze flickered to where his coat was neatly folded on a chair behind them. “Yes, but I think I can manage that one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand cupped his cheek and she gently brushed her thumb along his cheekbone. “What is it then, love?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was goading him into talking about it with pet names, and Travis couldn’t even muster the energy to be offended.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He averted his gaze. “Well, it’s... you’re asking me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay over</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Which has some… let’s say implications.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret raised her eyebrows. “I see,” she said, “Obviously I’m not asking you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. We can take things slow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not even that,” he said, “It’s more of a… never thing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she said, nodding. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>see. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Well, what I said before still stands. I wouldn’t ask anything of you that you do not wish to give. Ever.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d done it. He’d talked about it. Look at him go! He almost babbled “It’s just not my </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you know? Never got the hype really. Seems awfully tedious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave him a look somewhere between amused and fond. “That’s absolutely fine,Travis. It would just be nice to have someone next to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel his ears go red. “I can do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret’s bed was big and comfortable. After spending decades falling asleep on the beach or occasionally in Gable’s bed that was definitely not meant to hold two people, the coziness of the big bed in the master bedroom felt like heaven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret had clambered into bed easily, and gestured welcomingly at him when he’d hesitated. Travis had immediately curled up next to her, laying his head on her shoulder as she held him. He gently traced the lines of the lily on her neck, and she’d smiled down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His coat, like the rest of his clothes, were neatly arranged on a chair in the corner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t speak, lying in comfortable silence, skin against skin, warm and safe. Margaret’s hand ended up lightly resting in his hair and he couldn’t help but melt into her touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleep well,” she murmured against his skin, he could feel the magic infused in her words settle in him syrupy sweet, like honey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you,” he murmured back, easily drifting off into sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable tugged self consciously at the embroidered vest they were wearing. Somehow, Margaret had managed to drag them both to the autumn dance that was happening in the town hall. Travis, always the overachiever when it came to being dramatic, had made them all get new, matching outfits. He’d opted for muted green and purple, with silver embroidery that was completely unnecessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unnecessary, for sure, but Gable had to admit he was pulling it off. He was wearing a floor length dress that went surprisingly well with his coat, and he seemed to gleam as he twirled, his skirt swishing with every movement he made. Gable suspected Margaret had gifted him a touch of magic to make the stars shine against the purple fabric. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret had, apparently, decided that she wanted Gable to publicly lose their ability to function, so she’d chosen a waistcoat and a skirt similar to Travis’s, topped off with an elegant tie at her throat and her hair braided up with her usual flowers. The flowers, they’d always presumed, were a side effect of her whole magic… thing, but nothing else could be attributed to magic. It was all just Margaret. Her hair was pulled back so her dark birthmark on her neck complimented the flower embroidery, and she looked… the only word Gable could find was </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathtaking. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable, however, felt awkward in their formal attire. Travis had allowed it to be just a nice vest and pants, but they were already drawing a lot of obvious attention as they walked into the town hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The music was already in full swing, and there were people in the middle of the room beginning to get dances underway. There were lanterns and fairy lights strung from the walls and ceilings, and at the side there were tables with food and drink. Gable had never been here before, but they had to admit it was nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret purposefully walked them towards the dancing people, and Gable was about to protest, but then they caught a glimpse of Travis’ lovesick stare and realised they were not going to win this fight. They let themselves be pulled along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was surprisingly easy to relax into the dancing. At first, they were uncomfortably aware of the stares and the touch of other people, but as the dance progressed they found themself getting lost in the music and the movement, tangled up in sweet laughter. Dancing with the children became their favourite, they always looked so serious and fascinated and innocent all at once, and soon started giggling with glee at how easily Gable could swing them around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Occasionally they had a bit with Travis, who was stumbling on his feet a little, but otherwise seemed as relaxed as could be. Gable couldn’t tell whether he actually enjoyed the attention this much or if he was acting a little, but it hardly mattered. Occasionally they ended up with Margaret, who was by far the best dancer out of all of them, and she was clearly delighted by everything around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while, Gable bowed out and moved over to the side of the hall. This was beautiful and exhilarating, but people and noise were still overwhelming. They’d spent the last few decades only really seeing people at the market once a week, and the markets never garnered crowds like this brimming party. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis found them moments after, and he leaned easily against the wall beside them and grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Having fun?” Gable asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed. “I’m glad Margaret dragged us along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t lie, Travis, I saw how much effort you put into these outfits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirked at them. “Well, it worked, did it not?” he said, punctuating his statement with a dainty step and twirl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, everyone is definitely staring at us,” they said, looking around and catching people quickly pretending they hadn’t been looking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because we’re the hottest people at this party,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable snorted. “What do you know about hot all of a sudden?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, whatever it is, we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly </span>
  </em>
  <span>winning,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might, of course, also have to do with the fact that you are a fairy tale come to life,” Margaret said, appearing next to Travis and draping herself on him at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable realised the pair of them were giving them space on purpose, keeping a half step between them, and wondered why that made their chest feel tight, that Margaret and Travis could read that need so easily on Gable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We do look magical, yes,” Travis said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said and then when Travis pulled an offended face, she amended “Well, yes. But I mean that you two have been in this town without socializing for decades, and you’re both practically an urban legend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I come here every week!” Gable protested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To sell your spooky fish,” Travis added unhelpfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable sputtered. “There is nothing</span>
  <em>
    <span> spooky </span>
  </em>
  <span>about my fish-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make the fish spooky,” he said, “It’s just how you are, Gable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn't even make sense-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darlings,” Margaret cut them off, amusement in her tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They started it,” Travis said confidently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret gave him a pointed look. “It’s time that we go back to dancing, I think,” she said, taking Travis by the hand. She turned to Gable. “Want to come?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shook their head. “No, I need a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded and quickly leaned up to give a tiny kiss on the cheek before tugging Travis along back into the fray.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Gable gravitated towards a table with a barrel of mead on it. Hovering around it were a group of people that Gable recognised at their fellow fishers. There were a good handful of them, with it being a fishing town, and Gable had never made an effort to get to know a single one of them before but they figured now was as good a time as any.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” they said awkwardly, gesturing to the mead, “Mind if I have some?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The amicable chattering stopped as they all stared at them. They steeled themself, hoping to read as vaguely intimidating but not threatening. And definitely not extremely nervous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tall, broad shouldered man pulled out a stool and smiled at them. “Of course!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three drinks and a lot of fishing stories later, Gable was surprised to find they were actually enjoying themself. They didn’t get to talk about fishing very often, and they’d been doing it for so very long that they had enough stories to amuse the whole crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were now sat only half paying attention, vaguely drinking mead and simply letting the atmosphere wash over them. Then they caught a glimpse of Travis and Margaret among the dancers, vivid and dazzling, Margaret leading as they spun together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were enraptured for a few moments, and they hadn’t realised how openly they’d been staring until they heard a laugh from one of their companions sat next to them. “Do you know them?” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable’s face went hot as they tried to formulate something along the lines of “those two are with me” or maybe “they are my partners”, but what they ended up blurting was: “Those two are mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughter erupted from around them as they felt their face go even redder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis caught their flustered gaze from across the room, and smirked as he leant to whisper something into Margaret’s ear. She giggled, turned around to look at them. Then her look changed to determination, and she adjusted her grip on Travis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>is all Gable could think.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like Gable is looking at us,” Travis whispered into Margaret’s ear. “How do you feel about putting on something of a show?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret really couldn’t help herself, and she turned to see her flustered partner hastily reconsidering their life choices across the room. She smirked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow my lead,” she murmured back to him, and tugged at the strings of light to arrange them around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she wasn’t given sway over the town's magic for this sort of thing, but for a moment she couldn’t find it in herself to care about duty and purpose when her head was filled with visions of what Gable would look like if they pulled this off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was killing two birds with one stone anyway, it turned out, because Travis immediately looked amazed at the magic around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re brilliant,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she smiled, and led them into a spin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So far they had been dancing for the sheer fun of it, mingling with the people around them enjoying the music. Now she could feel the attention of everyone falling on them as she picked up a faster more complicated dance, the music seeming to follow them rather than the other way around. Travis was keeping up as best he could, looking at her with such open adoration that despite herself, she found it tugging at her concentration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People moved out of the way for them, almost instinctively. The magic stitching in their skirts lent them a shimmering otherworldly look, ethereal as faeries. She could feel everyone staring at them, clapping and cheering them on, but above all else she could feel the way Gable’s gaze was pinned on them, moth to a flame.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The steps came to her easily as she maintained one hand firmly on Travis’ hip to guide him along, careful not to trip over his own dress. They held eye contact, flushed and warm against each other. Travis looked at her with sheer exhilaration, clearly having forgotten about his original intention entirely, just living with her in this moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the song came to it’s climax, she let the steps guide them to the end of the dance, twirling Travis right in front of Gable, dipping him low and meeting him with an open mouthed kiss. He made a soft noise at the back of his throat as he held on tighter, head tipped back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole town hall erupted into applause, whistling and cheering, but none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was pulling Travis upright, both of them breathless, and turning to look at Gable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were staring wide eyed, and Margaret could practically hear their heart beating in their chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was- you were-” they stammered, not even able to make eye contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret realised that sitting down, Gable would be much easier to reach than normal. She stepped away from Travis, who was leaning on the table, catching his breath, and moved in front of Gable. With gentle fingers, she tilted their chin up to catch their gaze. There’s such deep and obvious love in their eyes that it almost made Margaret dizzy, and suddenly all she wanted in the world was to kiss them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, my love?” she said softly, leaning in ever so slightly closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Words clearly eluded Gable as they made a soft noise and leaned forward. Margaret happily obliged, and the kiss tasted of magic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another round of whoops and cheers went around the table, before the rest of the party started breaking off and returning to their normal activities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In that moment, Margaret could think of little else but Gable and how they pulled her closer, hand tangling in her hair, practically on their lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were perfect,” they said breathlessly, punctuating it with another quick kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She giggled, slinging her arm around their neck to steady herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>were perfect,”Travis said, a lot fonder than he probably intended. He was still leaning on the table next to them, his hair tousled, his coat hanging loosely around his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable smiled at him, open and adoring. “Margaret was leading.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled back. “Yeah, she was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis and Gable stumble across the beach hand in hand. It’s late, late enough that Gable can feel the insistent pull of the ocean starting to sap their strength. They’d tried to leave at a reasonable hour, bit between bickering and saying goodbye to Margaret, two activities that were always dragged out to their fullest extent, the moon now hung in the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis was drunk, or at least drunk enough to hold Gable’s hand and pretend it was just to keep himself steady. “You should’ve seen your </span>
  <em>
    <span>face,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said, grinning like a madman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re one to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he said, slurring his words slightly, “I don’t recall losing the ability to speak human language in front of a crowd of my friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They weren’t my friends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gable almost said, and then realised that maybe they actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> made friends. “Travis, when we were leaving you spent like ten minutes saying goodbye to Margaret,” they said instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re seeing her tomorrow. I know this. You know this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His smile brightened. “I do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable rolled their eyes. “You’re a mess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we both are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much Gable could argue against that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrived at Gable’s boat, bobbing in the rising tide. “Are you staying over?” they asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis gave them a confused look as he walked to the rope ladder. “Obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable wasn’t sure why they’d allowed themself to indulge like this. The winter was making itself known in sharp frosts and bitter colds, and somehow the evening spent together had ended in Margaret’s bed, Travis curled up at their right side and Margaret to their left, Travis’ coat tucked safely over them. Gable imagined this is what people meant when they talked about heaven. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But despite everything, the tugging of the ocean was persistent. They’d never tested out what would happen, if they pushed too hard, strayed too far, but if the vague sense of exhaustion already washing over them was any indication, nothing good would come out of staying. Maybe the sea would pull them along like a puppet on a string, maybe they would just pass away, their strength stolen away by the ghost of freezing water. Neither option seemed ideal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shifted slightly, aware that neither of their partners were quite asleep yet. Margaret mumbled something into their shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you say, beloved?” Gable whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret made a soft noise and tilted her head up to look at them. “Stay,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable looked at her. She looked so beautiful, curled up here in warm, soothing comfort. There was nothing they’d rather do than stay. Nothing in the world that the ocean doesn’t let them see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I can’t,” they whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis shifted almost imperceptibly, pretending he was fast asleep while subtly putting more weight on Gable to keep them close. Clever, if ultimately fruitless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret had a different strategy. She leant forward and pressed a lingering kiss against their jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable’s breath hitched and their grip on Travis tightened. They could feel Margaret smiling against their skin as she pressed a kiss lower, to their neck, then another, trailing down until she reached their collarbone, where she very gently sank her teeth and nipped at the soft skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kisses were warm and soft. Sleepy and clearly not quite spilling over into heat, but it was enough to make Gable swallow hard and make a very embarrassing noise at the back of their throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Margaret,” they breathed, closing their eyes and tipping their head back against the pillows. Never had they hated their curse and resented their father more. They swallowed down the melancholy. “I really can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis gave up his charade and groaned. “It’s the whole curse thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Margaret pause. “I-” she said, regaining her composure, “Thought that was an immortality thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That… too,” Gable said, distracted enough by how close Margaret still was that stringing the words together seemed an impossible task. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, we know,” Travis said, his eyes still closed, still not moving from his place on Gable. “Everyone we love will leave us eventually, time will cease to have meaning or purpose. It’s so</span>
  <em>
    <span> done</span>
  </em>
  <span>, don’t you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret gave him a pointed we-will-talk-about-this look, but let it go. She moved away a little, and looked at Gable with a completely different gaze. For a moment, Gable wondered if she knew, if she could tell what their father had done to them, or worse, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’d</span>
  </em>
  <span> done. They wondered if she could see the flames, hear the screams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Gable said, self consciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, my dear,” she said, snapping out of it. Her strange look is replaced by such fondness Gable was immediately certain she couldn’t know. No one would ever look at them like that again if they found out what they’d done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you are right,” she continued. “You do need to go.” She touched the air around them like she was playing the strings of a harp. “The sea is pushing for it rather hard, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable nodded. Some distant part of them had hoped that maybe the lighthouse would offer something of a protection, but clearly that only went so far. And if there was one thing that Margaret understood that the grumbling Travis did not, it was duty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They untangled themself from the blankets and Travis alike, and stood up. Margaret followed suit, to walk Gable to the door, at least. Travis groaned and curled around his coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t complain, dearheart,” she said softly, running her hand through his hair, “I’ll be back in a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he said, “Goodbye, Gable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable stood in the doorway, the little light of the hallway barely illuminating the room. They smiled sadly. “Goodbye, Travis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The seasons turn, and time passes. Travis had never been good with time, and the periods where he’s a seal certainly don’t help. But he found himself more aware than he’d ever been before of the way that time passes, there’s a weight tied to it now. Their first year of dazzling love settled into routine, and he can’t quite get over how much he enjoyed it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He woke up one day at Gable’s to an empty bed and the sound of quiet chatter from the living room. He pushed off the covers and headed out of the little bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the living room, Gable had their back turned, busy making them all breakfast. Margaret was lounging on the couch, wearing one of the many cable knit sweaters she’d stolen from Gable. It’s a soft blue, long enough to reach her knees, and it goes over her hands even with the sleeves rolled up. Gable had Travis’s own coat draped over their shoulders as they moved about the small kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is all he could think, as his breath caught, as he stood there in the doorway stupefied. Gable and Margaret were laughing about something, and it felt like it was the only sound in the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Travis, you finally decided to wake up,” Margaret said playfully. Gable turned to him briefly and smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“William,” he blurted, like he had to say it, like there were no other words for what he meant. His true name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable froze, and Margaret blinked up at him, wide eyed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s William,” he repeated with more conviction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were a few beats of silence before Margaret stood up and beamed at him. He can see she’s blinking away tears. “Give me a good morning kiss then, William.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that she closes the space between them, and he can feel the magic flowing between them, a gentle electricity. It feels like a promise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long’s it been summer, Travis?” Gable asked. They’re lying on the beach, Travis happily sunbathing in his seal form.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” he said, “I wouldn’t know. That's the sort of thing you should ask Margaret.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable had just returned from a trip that had lasted several weeks, and they kept looking back out to sea, vaguely uneasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like it’s been summer too long,” they said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might almost be the equinox,” he said distractedly, “Margaret has started preparations, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That isn’t what Gable meant. They can just feel something wrong in the air. But maybe it’s their own paranoia, after things have been so good for so long it’s easy to imagine the tide turning and wrenching you out to sea again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a brief second where the two of them locked eyes, and just for an instant, Gable could see a flash of worry in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He can feel it too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed silent the rest of the afternoon, lying close together, pretending they can’t feel the sense of impending doom closing in around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret woke up on the morning of the autumnal equinox and immediately knew that something was very wrong. The town was decked out for celebration once again. She can rarely afford herself the luxury of partying on other holidays, but the changes of the seasons are the hardest. Change and cycles are good, but they still take a steady hand to guide them and keep them from toppling over, especially considering the sheer amount of magic in Safe Harbour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The uneasy feeling didn’t fade as she got up, the bright light stinging, the air sharp. Apprehensively, she walked down the stairs, towards the small side house next to the lighthouse where her teacher lived. In any other situation, it would have been her place, as the apprentice, but nothing about the arrangement she and her teacher had was traditional. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought of him as she walked down the stairs. He had once been a bright young man, studying magic with an endless passion. He had been, as most people are when they take this job, very young. She hadn’t quite managed to drag out of him what had happened to his own teacher, but she was sure he blamed himself for it. His teacher's passing had probably been a cold shock. It's one thing to be taught you have obligation, it’s a different thing to not be able to save someone who you cared about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had left him alone, nineteen years old, no family and nothing but the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t really blame him for getting swept up in the current of the ocean in the following years, afraid to connect to the people he was sworn to protect. Afraid to pass down his role to some young kid, to push his own position onto anyone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked out of the lighthouse door and felt the wind sweep across the beach, clouds forming in the distance. It made her shudder, her head beginning to ache, full of pressure like storm clouds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knocked on the door of the little house. No one answered, but she noticed that the door was ajar. She walked in tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Wormwood?” she called.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house didn't look too different from the last time she’d seen it. It was small and full to the brim of books and journals, no lights lit, the grey daylight casting odd shadows across the living room. Nothing seemed out of place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew what had happened. She knew it the moment she crossed the threshold. But she lets herself indulge in hope, clutching it tight and close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dref?” she called softly as she walked into the bedroom. The bed was made up, but there was no one there. She wandered through the little house, quickly mapping the few rooms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps he’d just gone on a walk, or to the market, she told herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ended up sitting on his chair at the kitchen table. It’s covered with half written notes and open books, papers rustling in the cold breeze from the open front door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alisdair?” she tried, her voice small and doubtful, the magic of his name ringing in her ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence of the room was deafening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, but stood up resolute. There was work to be done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dref Wormwood was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Usually, there were years to gently ease the process of the full force of the town’s magic being transferred onto a single person. There were exercises to help develop a full and true Sight, and at least a couple of months to prepare the ritual that would take place at the passing of the main lightkeeper. Margaret had, it was true, been taking on more than an apprentice normally would even though she’d been working there barely three years, but it was still… overwhelming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was desperately lugging books and journals to the lighthouse, attempting to figure out the relevant ones as she went, as well as trying very hard to keep the strings of the changing of seasons together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her thoughts were running feverishly.</span>
  <em>
    <span> It had to be an equinox,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this level of disruption is bad, the consequences could alter the seasons, time, space- and the sea was-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t think about that. She had to stay focused, at least for today. She blinks tears out of her eyes furiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slogged through her work for the rest of the day, breathing hard and trying to control the sharp pain of the incredible amounts of magic she’s suddenly become responsible for, trying to will away all her worried thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Detaching herself was working, for the most part, when she heard the doorbell. She hurried downstairs, wincing with pain and mentally rehearsing how to politely tell whoever it was that it was a very bad time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened the door to see Travis and Gable standing awkwardly on the doorstep, and she froze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both stared at her, and she realised at least some of her distress must be obvious because of the look on their faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Margaret?” Travis said, so softly she could have burst into tears then and there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t move, unsure of what to say to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re busy, we can-” Gable started hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she interrupted, her voice wavering, “Please come inside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis didn’t know what to do. He’d seen Margaret upset before, of course, he’d seen her sad, angry and especially on days like this, worn out and stressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he’d never seen her like this. There was a distance in her eyes, her jaw clenched tight, and it’s been so long he’d forgotten how much it hurts to see a person you love wrecked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing he couldn’t stop looking at as they walked up stairs in silence was the hastily wrapped gauze across her palm, stained with blood. Margaret didn’t like sacrificial magic, he knew that from the various occasions she’d caught him being a little too reckless with it. Suddenly he understood why she chided him when he didn’t think twice of drawing blood from his finger for small charms and whims.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She caught him staring as they walked into the living room. “It’s-” she sighed, “I couldn’t really afford not to, today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when Gable, too, noticed the injury and visibly paled. “Let me,” they said, quickly moving to the couch and beginning to gently unwrap the bandage. They shot a look at Travis, who moved to retrieve the first aid kit from the corner cabinet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret looked so exhausted, and she was completely silent as Gable finished undoing the bandage and started to clean the wound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a rough cut, right across her palm, and she flinched slightly as Gable started to dab alcohol on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are better places to draw blood from, you know,” Travis said. He was surprised at how shaky his voice sounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives him something that’s almost a smile. “Yeah,” she said solemnly, “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” he asked. She flinched, and he couldn’t tell whether it was because of Gable cleaning her wound or the question. Gable made a soothing noise either way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, her shoulders sagging even more. “My teacher passed away.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence was tangible, heavy around them. Travis realised that might not just be his imagination, but the lighthouse reacting to Margaret. He wasn’t sure which one he disliked more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at Gable, who gave him a hopeless stare back. Neither of them were good at this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” they said, focusing on her hand, like if they can fix that they can fix all of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like, uh,” Travis scrambled for something he can offer, some way to make this better. “Help with the funeral?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is no body,” she said, and her voice takes a hollow quality, like she was reciting from a textbook. “When you’re part of magic that long, you end up just unraveling. He was so swept up in the waves-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I was fond of him. I hope- I hope he’s getting the rest he deserves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Gable finished wrapping the new bandage, and gently lifted Margaret’s hand to kiss it. “There,” they said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That seemed to be her breaking point. She blinked up at them, opened her mouth to say something and broke into sobs. “It just h-hurts so much,” she said, burying her head in her hands like she’s trying to shut something out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable made a distressed noise and immediately pulled her towards them, holding her to their chest. She clung to them, burying her face into their shoulder. Travis hovered, ending up sitting next to them on the couch, gently putting his hand on her back in hope it will bring her comfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it, love?” Travis said, as softly as he can, hoping doubtfully that it would be something he could fix. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took several deep breaths and managed “It’s all flowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>through me-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>her voice went weird and distant again. “I can see it all, I can see the change of the tides, I can feel the lighthouse breathing and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ocean, it’s-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable cupped her cheek, brushing away her tears with their thumb. “Hey,” they said, achingly soft, “Hey, come back to us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Margaret?” Travis said. He tugged at the name, just lightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked again, her eyes snapping back into focus and darting between both of them. “Thank you,” she breathed out. She was still shaking, and Gable seemed very keen to not let her go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both just sit there and hold her for a little while, until her breathing starts to even out a little, and her desperate grip loosens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything we can do?” Gable asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought about it for a second. “I don’t think I’ve eaten all day,” she admitted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable’s eyes widened and Travis shook his head. “Who doesn’t take care of themselves now?” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A slight smile spread touched Margaret’s lips. This, at least, is familiar territory. “This happens to me occasionally, when I have</span>
  <em>
    <span> work,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she said. “You used to regularly get into knife fights, Travis."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable shook their head at both of them, as they stood up. “I’m going to make us food,” they said, and gave a pointed look at Travis. “Don’t upset Margaret because you can’t stand vulnerability.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That</span>
  <em>
    <span> stung,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he started to protest, Margaret cut him off. She went and took Gable's hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not made of glass, dear,” she said, holding their hand to her cheek. “Besides,” she added with a small smile, “I can handle him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They closed their eyes for a moment, hand soft against her face. “I’m sorry,” they said and returned her little smile. “I’ll see what there is in the kitchen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis frowned at them as they left, because he knows that they do have something of a point, but he also knew that they’re certainly underestimating how much he’s willing to do for Margaret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged off his coat and offered it to her. “I know it’s magic, so maybe it’s too much right now, but it’s heavy so maybe…” he trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took it gladly, taking another deep breath as she wrapped it around her shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “Your magic is comforting, familiar.” She ran her fingers across his coat, making him shiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Gable cooked. They were both aware that what Margaret needed right now was a break, so Travis sat close and distracted her as best as he could with a story of a heist he definitely pulled off at some point or another, and she clearly doesn’t believe him, but that’s not what matters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually they sit around the dinner table, and Margaret still has Travis’ coat draped over her shoulders as she tries to focus on his magic rather than the cacophony around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stew is warm and perfect and even with the weight of loss still in her heart she began to feel like they could do this, together. Tomorrow there’d be a ridiculous amount of work, but right now there are two people staring at her with so much love and fretful worry she’s afraid she might combust over it, and maybe that’s enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of them look outside to the dark clouds rolling across the oceans. None of them hear the howling winds and the churning waves. None of them are aware of the gathering storm outside. They deserved the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the storm hit, however, no one was safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable jumped as another thunderclap roared outside. The storm had been going on for hours now, no end in sight. Their boat creaked dangerously as the waves got rougher and rougher outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable hated storms. With all their years bound to it, they’d managed to not fear the sea, but swimming and especially storms were still overwhelmingly terrifying, an old fear they’d never shaken. Usually, the weather around Safe Harbour was almost suspiciously perfect, with clear spring days and lovely winter snow. There was sometimes the occasional summer rainstorm that Gable usually spent in town to avoid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, though, it was impossible to even go outside without the wind and torrential rainfall sweeping you away. Gable was curled up with all the blankets they owned, and struggling to shake off the feeling of drowning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity of trying to force thoughts about drowning out of their head, trying to ignore the raging storm and pretending they don’t hear their father’s voice in every creak of the mooring lines, they’re fully and completely convinced that they’re destined to drown any moment and and they’re too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Distantly, they heard the hatch open, the rain bursting in and the sounds of the storm outside overwhelming the little room. Travis stumbled in, windswept and soaking wet, a shaken expression on his face. He slammed the hatch shut behind him and then stood there, dripping miserably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I couldn’t-” he started, and then swallowed as tears threatened to spill over, “I couldn’t find you… in the storm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable stood up on shaky legs, still unable to shake the feeling of immediate, impending death in the wild waters. They weren’t sure how healthy it was, but they found themself comforted by the idea that if they’re going to drown, they’re going to drown together now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re here now,” they murmured, reaching for him and pulling him to their chest, uncaring of the pool of water forming around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them knew how to help each other, how to save each other from the great, all-consuming spiral of sheer terror, so they held each other tight, flinching at every movement of the boat, lost in their own memories but holding each other’s hands like a lifeline. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis knew something of Gable’s whole deal with drowning. They’d never told him why they ended up in that ocean alone for all those months, but there have been many times where they’ve woken up next to him, gasping for air, struggling to fight away the phantom water. He’d attempt to talk them down now like he did then if there wasn’t an image of a sinking ship burnt into his mind, twisted with well worn guilt. He blinked and suddenly he was back in that old house that was never home, calling for his mother, his father screaming at him behind him. Nothing good had ever happened when his father screamed like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them were sure how much time passed. It felt like they stayed awake together for over a day, crying and holding on to each other until they finally passed out from exhaustion on the couch. They woke up lethargic and tired, too tired to cry anymore and the storm still raged outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happens if it never ends?” Gable said distantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis had his face buried into their shoulder, trying desperately to keep the noise of the storm at bay. “Nothing,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “It’s not like we can die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Imagine we could,” they said. It’s a dangerous train of thought, and both of them knew it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We would die here together then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in the misery of the moment that feels almost like a comfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret hurried down to the pier and Gable’s little boat. The storm had died down a little, settling into something more like normal wind and rain rather than a supernatural downpour. The town was in disarray. Nothing was made to withstand a storm of that kind, and people's primary income here was fishing. Margaret tried not to think about all those problems for the time being. She had done what she could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let herself in. She wasn’t too worried about them, if you stayed inside the storm hadn’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” she called as she went down the ladder, “I’m sorry it’s taken me a while, but the storm should have finally-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to see them, tangled on the couch with red, puffy eyes, seemingly bracing themselves for the worst. Two pairs of fearful eyes looked back at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-calmed down,” she finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Travis said, unmoving from his place on Gable and the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We…” Gable started, attempting at an explanation, “We don’t really like storms?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was dark, and there were plates haphazardly piled onto the sink, and by the bleary eyed look he was giving her, Travis at least hadn’t slept.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moved forward to give them both a kiss on the forehead. Gable’s was slick from sweat from panic and Margaret could feel her heart break.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make us tea,” she said. She was good at herbal magic. She looked at them gently. Gable stood up awkwardly, like they didn’t know what to do now that the storm was over and they’re still alive to see it go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should change,” they said, looking down at the crumpled clothing from several days ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis grabbed his coat and put it on, wrapping it tightly around himself and holding it there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat around the table in worn out silence. Gable felt slightly better in clean clothes, and whatever Margaret had put in their drinks helped. The all consuming panic and certainty of doom was replaced by simple exhaustion and remnants of guilt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret also looked tired, dark circles under her eyes and general tension in her body very obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about all of this,” Gable said. Travis remained worryingly quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave them a sad smile. “Don’t be sorry,” she said, leaning forward to squeeze their hand. “I would like to know what happened though, I hate to see you two like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis pointedly took another sip of his tea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They couldn’t avoid it anymore. It’s too big, they don’t have the energy to hide it. Gable took a deep breath. “When I- when my father cursed me,” they began, voice shaking. They couldn’t bear to look at Margaret, knowing this could very well be the last time she looked at them with kindness. “It was at sea. And there was a storm, and the boat was sinking, and I couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” they choked on their own words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret had a look of horror on her face. “You were drowning.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable had just been a sailor on that ship, working under the heavy hand of their father. They couldn’t have known-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” they whispered brokenly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stayed silent for a few beats, her voice so fragile. “How long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Months, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis didn’t say anything, but he laid his hand on their shoulder. They closed their eyes, bracing themself for what came next. They’re going to tell them, and then that’s it. This happy dream they’ve been living these past few years will finally be shattered, and they’ll be alone again. Just Gable and the sea and all the ghosts in the wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Gable,” Margaret said, leaning to cup their cheek, but they flinched away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I deserved it,” they said, hollow, speaking before either of their partners could protest. “I don’t- I can’t remember, but it was my fault that boat was sinking. It was my fault and all those people d- all those people </span>
  <em>
    <span>died </span>
  </em>
  <span>just because I was throwing </span>
  <em>
    <span>a tantrum-” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood up abruptly, Margaret looking at them pale in shock. “You should leave,” they said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gable, I won’t-” she started.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t want to be with someone who is capable of things like this,” they said, and managed to stop the words becoming a sob. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t see the way Travis flinched and recoiled, until he snapped at them, full of venom. “Guess you don’t want to be with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travis, what on earth are you talking about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in an eerie coincidence after my mother left me,” he spat out, “I went to the beach and made a stupid deal with the sea to drown my father. Silly fourteen year old me just forgot that there would be other people on that boat, so I guess we both are undeserving of compassion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable stared at him, as he stood up, looking them square in the eyes. “You were a child,” they said. “You were desperate. I was-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t even remember!” he shouted. “I remember the relief I felt when that ship sank, Gable. If someone is fundamentally unlovable it’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by their heavy breathing and Margaret looking helplessly between the two of them. Slowly, inescapably, the pieces fall together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was the same boat,” Gable said softly. Travis’ eyes widened, they turned to Margaret. “Wasn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at the tangled mess of their fated strings between them. “I- yes. Probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been there, in each other’s lowest moments. Long before they’d ever meet and learn to care for each other. Gable had no idea how they were supposed to feel about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least you can stop feeling sorry for yourself then,” Travis said, wrenching his chair out and sitting back down, still seething.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does that even</span>
  <em>
    <span> mean?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gable said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since the ship magically had to sink, it doesn’t matter what you did,” he said, and with a sardonic smile to Margaret, “Isn’t that right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was speechless, staring at the mess unfolding before her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My intentions still </span>
  <em>
    <span>mattered</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Travis,” they said, anger in their voice too now, “Maybe I was the catalyst for your curse, have you thought about that? Maybe if I hadn’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You couldn’t have-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop,” Margaret said firmly. “Who is this going to help? Both of you attempting to pile guilt onto yourself and yourself alone is not going to fix any of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her words hung in the air for a long moment as Travis and Gable glared at each other. Then Travis took a deep breath, and Gable looked away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Margaret,” Travis said quietly. “Maybe Gable’s right, you should just leave us-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you can stop saying that too,” she said, and she seemed to intentionally set aside the exhaustion of the day as she took each of their hands. “I am not leaving either of you. I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The magic filled the room, making it brighter and filling both Gable and Travis with a small shock of the love Margaret felt for them. Here she was seeing the worst parts of them, their worst mistakes and feelings, and she was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>here. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable breathed out, giving her a small, shaky smile. “Okay,” they said, “We’ll do this together, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go up to the lighthouse,” she said, standing up, “You’ll feel the last of the storm less there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they walked out, Gable and Travis shared a look, so much pain and regret interlaced between them. Gable offered their hand and Travis took it, squeezing gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. I forgive you. It’s alright now. I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, they settled down on their bed as usual, piled onto each other, legs and arms intertwined trying to regain the strength that everything had taken out of them, attempting to let go of the past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>we going to do?” Travis said, after a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> should do right now,” Margaret said, half asleep at Gable’s side, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I, </span>
  </em>
  <span>at least, need to hire an apprentice. And soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t an ideal time. In a perfect world, she would have liked to have had a few years more to just become fully comfortable in her own role, but she knew she couldn’t shoulder the job alone anymore. She just had to trust she was strong enough to hold on and teach someone else at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gable smiled sleepily and kissed the top of her head. “You’ll be an amazing teacher.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Margaret smiled back. “You know what? Yes. I will be.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on tumblr at @not-from-the-absence-of-violence</p></blockquote></div></div>
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